Monday, November 30

An example of the Nica toilet humor. Why?Partial audience the taping of “Granada’s Got Talent” at the Palacio del Arte. Juan Carlos, my estudiante, is one of the remaining contestants. He’s survived two eliminations. I didn’t stay to the end on Saturday so I’m not certain of that days’ results. They started an hour late because someone forgot to deliver the chairs for the audience so they had to contract another chair company while everyone waited. But, of course, as you know by now, this is Nicaragua. My showing up at 2 p.m. precisely was simply stupidity on my part. The talent was pretty sad, i.e. this guy in vaquero attire.The next guy was painful . After each performance, a la “Dancing with the Stars,” the judges seated here offered their opinions and a number grade. I was sitting on top of the speaker and cound barely understand their ctiques but I’ll ask Juan Carlos later today. Here is Juan Carlos. I think he could have given a bit more attention to his wardrobe. From my understanding, he received more 3s than 5s which was not a good thing. I hope he wasn’t eliminated.This next group danced a la Michael Jackson. Michael is turning in his grave. I found out my student and Thanksgiving lunch date Karina likes to read. READ! She’s the only person in Nicaragua. I’m bringing her a book today. My Spanish teacher filled me in on some of the Navidad details as we just entered Purisima. I can’t remember what that is but has something to do with the Virgen and Immaculate Conception. The residents of each street decorates like mad. The major domo has been selected by the church for his/her devotion during the year. The procession, along with a band accompanying the virgen, winds its way down one street per evening. They go house to house and, if you’ve got $, you can request a prayer or a song. I remarked to Maria Lydia on the amount of young people I see in the processions. She replied that they rarely show up in church, they’re in the processions because it’s an excuse to get out of the house. There are celebrations in the park every night with fireworks. I can see them clearly from my house. I don’t even have to get up from my desk chair. The fireworks this year were particularly good. On Christmas, instead of Santa Claus, the kids write letters to El Niño Dios. They put the letters in the Christmas trees which every house seems to have.

Saturday, November 28

Usually the 6th graders get a trip to the zoo or some other like excursion at the end of the school year. This year, because dthe government said there was “seismic activity (????),” instead of fun excursions, the sixth graders got to sit in the sun while the volunteers gave them juicy tidbits about their native countries, such as “there are a lot of mountains in Austria” and “We enjoy skiing.” Then they received prizes (some of them got watches (1 size fits all…girl or boy) or a very large box of chocolates that had been melting in the heat. Then we served them lunch (rice and beans, which everyone seems excited to eat, even though that’s what they have for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But this is a very poor school in a very poor neighborhood out in the boonies, so perhaps it is exciting to see rice and beans. The large group is a bunch of teens who came all the way from Australia to build a classroom for the school. they toil in the torrid temperatures cementing blocks.This girl has a least 6 braids in there. I can barely get one braid of my hair. After Little Miss Salsa Shimmy danced, Pauline remarked to me, “No wonder they’re pregnant by the time they hit high school.”Thanksgiving with Karina. Margarita’s spread included pretty much all of the traditional Thanksgiving dishes, except they copped out on dessert. The buffet only included cookies and cupcakes. Not a pie to be seen. In addition to a big turkey, there was ham, although I don’t recall pilgrims and indians pigging out on ham. The unfortunate woman behind the turkey needed the carving expertise of Kathy. No one can slice up a gobbler like my sister. The woman had a long line and a dull knife. Karina, who lives on rice and beans, was a good sport about trying everything except she drew the line at stuffing. It tasted really good but didn’t look particularly appetizing. We chatted for 2 hours in Spanish. She’s 18, her father split when she was little (as most here do…except for Daniel) and, when I asked how many people live in her house, she had to count up to 13 assorted relatives. Her task is to cook dinner for 8 of them every other night. She attends university in Managua on Saturdays and is the first in all of her family to go to college. She wants to make a career of fixing computers and cellphones. Chrissian, my housekeeper, asked when she could bring her 2-month baby to meet me. I thought saying, “never” would be rude. Her 12-year old daughter came with her. Fatima immediately immersed herself in her phone which is what I wanted to do, rather than coo. I find babies singularly uninteresting. I did pry interesting information from Chrissian about Casa Pilas. Apparently, the owners decided to wait until I go home rather than making me vacate for the 10 days of Thanksgiving. They’re coming for Xmas instead. I’m hoping maybe she’ll make some additional improvements before I return in March. At some point she must notice how annoying it is not to have a door on the master bathroom. Daniel and I use the honor system. How about toilet roll holders? Light in the kitchen would be too much to ask.

November 26, Thursday - Happy Thanksgiving

To

Enrique trying to leap onto the cross of noodles in the pool. I’m looking on outside of splash proximity.Last time I was here the vendors were all selling paintings of people sitting on toilets. For some reason, someone thought that amusing. The toilet masterpieces are gone and now all the kiosks are selling shredded T-shirts. They should go back to people in the loo. Above photo of the vendors along Parque Central trying to clean up after a particularly heavy downpour. And the girl who cooks “revueltas” in the street on my path home. Masa dough filled w/ cheese. Wrapped in a banana leaf. So hot I have to wait to eat it. But worth the wait. The ladies with their snack carts park themselves outside the schools. They know their way around post-lesson hungry children. The once-movie theatre has been transformed (well, a small part of it) into a dry cleaners and a 7/11 type mini-market, and now the narrow once-lobby is a Taco Stop. I’d been pressing Daniel to go. Regretful decision. Dreadful food. My hard taco tasted like it’d been sitting on the counter for a month. Daniel’s burrito was no better. And to top if off, my Chase credit card for a grand total of $8.24 was declined by the credit card company. Every time I leave town, I enter a Travel Notification with my credit card companies. I’ve been in Nicaragua for almost 7 years and they decline an $8 charge. I called and yelled. It must be horrible to work in Customer Service. I only had one class yesterday due to summer school beginning for the little children. My students were all occupied except Javiera. During that ONE class of the day, the city electricity went out. No fans. I was wearing skimpy clothes and was sitting near the door because the office is still jammed w/ cardboard cartons. I grabbed the battery-operated fan birthday-gifted to me by Pam for some relief. I offered Javiera a frisbee-shaped plastic fan but she demurred saying, “No tengo calor.” She was dry as a piece of paper while sweat literally poured off my face. My eyes had already been itching and my nose dripping because I’m allergic to something in the office. Must be the dust from the cartons. And Javier wasn’t hot! Then I walked through the teeming marketplace to get some groceries. I finally got home and walked directly through the pool on the way to a nap in the cool bedroom. I’m done cooking. I can’t bear the market. Off to my Nica Thanksgiving.

Tuesday, November 24

See that dripping wet head? I fell in the pool. Hanne, Rodrigo and their baby Thiago came swimming. I was busy talking and missed a step and ended up underwater. I haven’t been under water since I was 12. I couldn’t exactly leave my guests and blow dry my hair (for the 2nd time that day) so I pretended I’d intended to be an outdoor girl. Not my finest moment. Rodrigo my attorney is reading my rental contract. He says they can kick me out with 30 days notice. I haven’t a leg to stand on. Nor a step, obviously. I’m going to cross my fingers and hope they’ve priced Casa Pilar out of the Nica market. The other photos: the homeless. they don’t even look for a doorway or any type of shelter. They just drop where they stop, and that’s where they sleep. The pedestrians simply step over them. Except for the blue tarp. It’s vacant today but usually there are two sets of feet sticking out of it. I think they stow their belongings underneath. And no one bothers anyone. OK, I’m a bad mom. I gave my turtle up for adoption. The doors to my house are always open except for the iron gates. Two days ago a man came to the house, turtle in hand, asking if it was mine. It had slipped under the gate and was toodling down the walkway to the stairs below. He brought it inside and put it in my garden. This morning a woman came to the door and pointed out the turtle casually making his way to the same spot. She brought him home. And then 10 minutes later another lady had him in hand, asking to whom he belonged. I questioned if she wanted a tortuga, she said sure, and the deal was done. If Yertl wanted to run away from home, who am I to say no. The woman seemed very happy to have a turtle. I hope he wasn’t a prized member of the owner’s family here. All my students are sick and sneezing on me. My teaching books have exercises about people “jogging.” Talk about foreign concepts! No one jogs in Nicaragua. I have to keep explaining, “correr rapidamente.” My mini-mercado around the corner se fue. It’s disappeared. The guys in the TV repair place next door told me they thought it moved to Ometepe, in the isletas. I’m devastated. I hate going to the supermarket because it’s so hard to get a fucking taxi and I was making the mercado my go-to fruit and vegetable stop. Now what? I haven’t a vegetable in the house. I bought some bananas and an apple on the street yesterday but I don’t think they’re vegetable replacements. I guess I’ll have to have the caesar salad every day at the Garden Cafe to get my leafy fix. No more BLTs.

Sunday, November 22

Isn’t that the prettiest little butterfly? It died. I came back from a 45-minute lunch and the office was stacked almost to the ceiling with cardboard cartons. My desk was behind all of that. I then had 3 more classes to teach. That grey lady with Daniel is my competition. He looks happy with her. I don’t have very many American friends here. Well, I don’t have very many friends of any stripe here. But, certainly no one with whom to share Thanksgiving. It being a Thursday, it’s a work day for me. And Daniel’s in Nandaime and never gets back to Granada before 7:30 p.m. My lunch hour is at noon and then my afternoon classes begin at 1 p.m. So I decided to share my Thanksgiving w/ Karine, my 1 p.m. student. We’ll go to Margarita’s at noon (a restaurant/bar not know for its food, but within fast walking distance). It’s on La Calzada, the main restaurant drag. They posted their holiday menu on the door and perhaps they can’t fuck it up. Karina makes me laugh and we’ll have a combination feast/lesson. Thousands of Cubans have made their way to Costa Rica, ostensibly on their way to the US, but they’re currently camping on the border of Costa Rica and Managua because Managua won’t let them through without papers. They’re trying to cross to Honduras. At the moment they’re at a stalemate, most of the people think Nicaragua’s being spiteful because the Nicas and the Ticos just don’t get along. When Somoza was in power, he gave away a chunk of and to Costa Rica in some kind of deal. Each country thinks Rio San Juan belongs to it, so there are boundary spats. The unfortunate Cubans are stuck in camp squalor. What a world we live in! The manager of the hotel next to me called to talk about their plan to construct some sort of fence or planting separating the condo property from mine. He says they need to use part of my walkway. I think they should have thought about that before constructing their monstrosity within an itch of my kitchen window. About using part of their own property rather than annexing mine. I told them to design something and I’ll look at it when I get home. I put a deposit down on Casa Pilar beginning March 16 for 3 months. I asked the management company what happens if the owner sells the house before June. She said they’ll refund my money and help me find somewhere else to live. I don’t want to live somewhere else. I had hoped this was settled. I knew this was too easy. I’m waiting now for my friend Hanne, baby Thiago and her lawyer husband Rodrigo to come swimming. I’ll ask him what my rights are. I never have any rights.

Monday, November 16

These trees are the brainchild of the wife of the president, Daniel Ortega. They’re certainly garish and not much less garish during the daytime when they’re not lit. But I think they’re fun and colorful. These photos were taken through the windshield, which doesn’t do them justice. We had a wonderful wonderful weekend, one of the best of my life. Daniel is always in a good mood when he gets to drive a car. We checked into the InterContinental after some haggling online about the rate, which had gone up from $99/night to $176. I got them down to $119 which included the $40 incredible breakfast. My favorite buffet. I did leave there 10 pounds of bacon heavier. We went to the movies to see the 007 film. I bring a hoodie to Nicaragua only for the chilly plane rides but I took it into the movie theatre an it was so cold, Daniel and I were huddled beneath it. Didn’t James Bond have a sense of humor in the early days? Daniel Craig can jump off roofs but he’s so boring. There must be a better Bond out there. I had no idea what the story was about or if indeed there was a story that made sense but give me popcorn and I don’t care what the movie is. And then we went to lunch across the street at McDonalds. I never eat meat here but McDonalds is the same wherever you go. I can rely on my double cheeseburgers and my fries. A taste of home.I’d read about the ribs at Jimmy “three fingers” and we never try to go because it’s in a sketchy neighborhood and we usually don’t have a car. The host greeted us at the door with the news that Jimmy was in New York so there were no ribs. I guess his ribs are a bigger secret than Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies’ recipe. No Jimmy, no ribs. We settled on easier-to-obtain recipes like quesadillas. The rum and cokes were rum and pepsi. Let me tell you…not remotely the same. Then we smoked a joint and lounged around the hotel pool in the balmy night air with our piña coladas. We tried to include the palm trees and the candles and lighting and pool in the photos but it was too dark, but it’s stunning at night. The beds and pillows and duvet of the Intercontinental are heavenly dreams. In the morning after my bacon pig-out, we had more piña coladas on the cabana pool lounge, swam, went to the gym to pretend work off some of the calories, and checked out. Perfect 2 days. And my hair was straight for the first time in 2 months. I’d washed it right before leaving Granada, was in an air-conditioned car, air-conditioned mall, air-conditioned movie, etc. I didn’t even dread looking in the mirror. Next time I’m going back to a Brazilian Blowout. My natural curls are no match for Granada’s humidity. On CNN yesterday, where they show on-screen temperatures from around the world, Nicaragua was the hottest.

Saturday, November 14

Vacation! We’re going on a vacation! We rented a car and we’re just going into Managua for the night but one would think Disneyland, Disneyworld, Las Vegas, and Fiji are in my future this weekend. Daniel hasn’t had one free day since I arrived. He asked for time off (from the job that doesn’t pay him) and we have so many plans and not enough hours. We’re going to the movies, we’re going to McDonalds, we’re going to Jimmy Three Fingers for dinner, we’re going to the port for a drink, we’re going to have the Intercontinental’s sumptuous breakfast….bacon!!!!! I didn’t see him for 3 days. He was stuck in Diriomo with the circus. Why? One night he didn’t have any money for gas for his motorcycle to travel the 45 minutes back to Granada. He’s been working all this time and he didn’t have gas money. They seem to toss him a bit of money here and a bit of money there but he hasn’t received his salary in weeks. The other two nights it was raining so hard it would have been dangerous on the highway on a motorcycle. I HATE THE CIRCUS! The overgrown black butterfly I was so afraid of is called a pipilacha. My student Juan Carlos auditioned yesterday for the Nica equivalent of “America’s Got Talent.” J.C. sings karaoke every weekend at O’Shea’s Bar. Daniel’s a couch potato and I haven’t been able to get him to go to the bar with me to see J.C. yet. I went to a rock concert alone last night. When I arrived a few minutes after the start time of 7 p.m., the band was roaring and I’d wished I’d brought my earplugs. I was astounded they’d started on time because this is Nicaragua; nothing starts on time. Then they put down their instruments, turned off the lights, posed for a lot of selfies, and hung out with their friends for the next hour. At 8 p.m., I gave up. I’d obviously witnessed a warm up and the real performance was going to start sometime in the future. Without me. The appetizer wasn’t enough to convince me to stay for more.

Friday, November 6

These souvenir stalls line the whole side of the park.  Every evening they’re totally dismantled.  Not a trace to be found.  Every morning, they’re back in business, all their goods carefully displayed. The mini-market around the corner from my house.  Everything is displayed so beautifully.  And I can buy one carrot or one piece of parsley rather than wasting bunches of supermarket groceries.  I don’t know what half of this stuff is.   Socializing is overrated.  I was stood up.  After all my efforts to get out there and make friends, I’m done.  I had invited Steve & Marti Owen for cocktails at 4 on Wednesday.  I met them a couple of years ago on my van trip up north to Matagalpa.  She’s the epitome of “vivacious.”  He’s easy to talk to.  Steve and I were talking Granada houses at the Dinner/Movie evening, so I suggested they take a look at my house.  During the daytime hours because it’s a daytime house.  Cocktails!  Like I’m really a “cocktails-at-4” person.  But I was a pretend ex-pat.  I bought mixer and snacks, woke up early from my Wednesday nap, arranged the glasses and ice, neatened the house….and waited.  And waited.  Finally at 4:40 I called.  They forgot.  We laughed it off and said, “Oh, another time.”  As if.  There’ll never be another time.  She didn’t even follow up her apology with a candy clown.  Jack always sent everyone a candy clown. My students continue to confuse the words “kitchen” and “chicken.”  But I continue to confuse “jabon (soap) and “jamon” (ham), so we understand each other.  While sweating my way through the 5th class of the day, wondering what the hell I’m doing here, it’s exciting when Javiera (my newest and most beginner student) understands the difference between “there” “their” and “they’re.”  Better than a lot of norteamericanos, that’s for sure.  Daniel bought himself a bracelet that says “Jesus” on it.  When I asked why, he said, “Para protejerme.”  He thinks wearing his Jesus jewelry, he’ll be protected.  I asked if he thinks Jesus is watching him 24/7.  The answer is yes.  I asked if Jesus is watching EVERYONE 24/7.  His answer is yes.  If Jesus is spending so much time gazing down on him, why does Daniel have so many problems in his life? You know those imaginary conversations we all have w/ ourselves and other people to whom we intend to talk?  I find lately that I’m having those chats in Spanish.  But mostly they’re with people like my kids who don’t speak Spanish.     

Wednesday, October 5

Jenny and Dan seated are volunteers who work in the office doing promotions, Justo is one of my students. In the very background, in the yellow, that’s me trying to concentrate on teaching English, while all of that commotion is going on behind me. Lorine & I had lunch at the lake because there was no school on Dia de los Muertos. We asked the waitress to take our photo. She'd better hang onto her waitress job because those are just our toes. But the tablecloth looks nice and red. Nancy Bergman and her hotel, Casa San Francisco, host an annual Dia de los Muertos cocktail party with a display of candles and decorative skulls and flowers and the like. With her sister, she owns the hotel as well as many other properties. I once rented Casa Cairo from her. So, in one day…lunch w/ Lorine, cocktail party. Social life, huh? No one comes close to my US friends. It’s always interesting to get Lorine’s take on things because she’s Bahai and vegetarian and from Montana and owns horses and is everything I’m not. At the tail end of the volunteer meeting on Tuesday, Jenny (the volunteer in the above photo) suggested to all that in the future there should be a shout out to members of your teaching team or volunteer group or whatever so people would be acknowledged. Everyone nodded. Surprisingly, she picked me for the first shout out. I proudly thought she was going to commend my dedication or my teaching methods. Instead, she told everyone that, upon her arrival, I had emailed her my list of lodging possibilities in Granada and then I followed it up with a list of restaurants. She had no idea that that’s just what I do: make lists. Big deal.

Monday, November 2

No classes today. It’s Dia de los Muertos. People go to the cemetery and neaten up the graves of loved ones. I asked Maria Lydia, my Spanish teacher, what happens when the cemetery is full. It’s a beautiful cemetery but there’s finite space. She said they dig up the people who’ve been dead for many many years, consolidate their bones, and put them back with a freshly-dead family member. Sounds macabre to me, but certainly can fit more cadavers that way. Maria Lydia cried all the way through our Saturday class. I’ve been studying w/ her for 6-1/2 years so we’re good friends. Her mother, who’d been sick for a year or so, died a week ago. I asked her to tell me about her mom’s illness. That was the end of my lesson. She poured out details of her mom’s illness, death, her sister coming from Florida, etc. I was able to understand just enough Spanish to pat her hand in the right part of the story and nod appropriately. I did learn the words for mausoleum and tombstone. Somewhere I’ll fit those into a conversation. The city electricity went out for two hours just as night was beginning to fall. I had time to light every candle in the house and find the flashlights and take a shower before all semblance of light was gone. It’s always an adventure here. On my walk to work, I alternate sides of the street to stay in the shade. There’s a long stretch near Parque Central without buildings, thus no shade. A gringo passing me advised, “I would invest in a hat if I were you.” He then proceeded to tell me about his scalp skin cancer. He had no way of knowing that I’m the Queen of Carcinoma and I can talk basal cell with the best of them. My dermatologist offered to put a cot in his office for me. My leg scars persist and I’ve had to finally give up on the long pants and resort to shorts. As you saw in the photos of the Dinner/Movie night, this heat is an excuse for all the people who should not be wearing abbreviated clothing to put on shorts and tank tops and let it all hang out, whether anyone wants to see it or not. And, shamefully, I’m one of the offenders. Walking home from school with two of my students, Antonia and Concepcion, we came across the ugliest tiniest skinniest hairless puppy in an abandoned cardboard box. We stopped to try to figure out what to do. I left them with the problem because I’m in a rental for the next 6 weeks and then I’m on a plane. I can’t harbor a puppy. I fretted all night, berating myself for not trying to find some sort of shelter. The next morning Antonia told me that “Princesa” is now her puppy. She has a family in the house all the time, along w/ a 2-year old who’s delighted to have a pet. I did offer to pay vet bills. My student Ramon asked me the meaning of “well.” He explained that I say it all the time. He said I used to say, “So…"

Oh no! November 1st already!

More to come about my Halloween corn casseroleThis beggar lady and a cohort farther up the street block my path to the office every morning, reaching out to me with their witchy fingersThere’s always something happening in Parque Central. Claro is one of the two cable companies. Nice for the kids to have something to do.This is the once monthly Dinner & a Movie expat get together. What’s up with gray-haired old men w/ ponytails? There are appetizers, then a theme movie, themed food during intermission, more movie, dessert, and I don’t know because this was the first time I went (Daniel and I had a 4-day break-up and I decided to expand my social horizons…but I lasted until intermission and went home to Daniel. I don’t like social horizons). If they play a French film, everyone is expected to bring a French dish, an Italian movie gets Italian food. This was Halloween. You see my over-done Boo corn casserole. The problem is cooking in some stranger’s kitchen without any ingredients. I had an early morning Spanish lesson, so I taxi’d to La Colonia w/ my recipe in hand. Yeah, like there’s really going to be creamed corn on the shelf. And good luck to me in finding Pillsbury Cornbread mix. So, you learn to improvise. I bought a cake mix, cans of corn kernels, and those pimento-stuffed Spanish olives to make googly eyes. Once I sweated my way home in a stuffed taxi with my packages on my knees, I combined 3 recipes. I used the back of the cake mix, my original recipe and one I found on the Internet. So I mixed eggs and sour cream and milk and a ton of butter and whatever I could find. I made the Boo w/ the olive eyes and went to take a nap. When I woke, my casserole was overdone and the olives had sunk into the batter. OK, raisins. I got halfway through a raisin Boo when I realized there wasn’t enuf color difference between the rains and the cake. So I ate all the raisins and substituted peanuts. I couldn’t use the oven at the party site because there was no gas, so my once-hot casserole was served two hours later. Note: I received compliments from everyone. And the buried olives were a nice touch. Take that, Martha Stewart! I’m sure I was the oldest guest, but when I’m with this group, I always feel like i’m hanging out with Mike Huckabee and his friends. An example of the ex-pat crowd: the movie was “Young Frankenstein.” The youngest (and I thought hippest) woman said to me, “Why was this movie so popular?” Astounded, I answered, “Because it’s funny.” And then she asked, “Why do you think it’s funny?” That didn’t deserve an answer. If you don’t get Mel Brooks, end of conversation. Get outta my face. Mule-like Daniel has continued to work for the circus, without being paid. Originally they were paying him on a weekly basis. Then they missed one payment and another and…. He thinks if he quits, they’ll never pay him. He doesn’t seem to realize that, even though they’ve moved on from Granada and are now in Diriomo (a 20-minute motorcycle ride for him), they’re going to pull up stakes there soon and if they don’t pay him, he has no recourse. He’s so happy to have a job, it doesn’t seem to make him crazy that there’s no recompense. It makes me crazy, so there were words exchanged. I held back on”idiota.” So he ran away to join the circus in Diriomo. Then the baby mama showed up on my doorstep again, with her fast-talking Spanish asking me to talk to him because he was so unhappy. Having a relationship with someone from another culture is really tough. I don’t win arguments in English. Having them in Spanish is an unfair handicap. “Men Are From Venus, Woman Are From Mars” or whatever the title of that book is…Nica Daniel and are aren’t even in the same galaxy. I can say to him, “I thought you were going to be here at 7 p.m.” and he responds, “Do you want me to leave?” "Does that mean you don’t love me?” I shake my head in exasperation. But 98% of the time, we’re blissful. So you get some bad with the good.